


Running Up Hill

by catwithasmile



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angels, Angst, Blood, Canon Related, Charon - Freeform, Demons, Drama, Feels, Hell, Hunters, Language, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Torture, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catwithasmile/pseuds/catwithasmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Dean found out that his best friend, the angel of the Lord, Castiel, was being hunted by his brothers yet again, he swore to himself that he wouldn't allow them to take his angel's Grace. Even if it meant he had to sacrifice himself in the progress. Dean makes a deal that sends his soul straight to Hell in exchange for Cas' protection. Things never go as the Winchester brothers plan so why should this be any exception?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

It had happened again. It had happened and he could do nothing about it.

Castiel sat in a ring of fire, staring at the scorched spot on the floor where the planks of wood had splintered and cracked, revealing a large pit that descended into hell.

The ring had been Dean’s doing. Knowing how the night was going to end he had planned ahead, luring his angel into the ring and lighting it ablaze just before Crowley’s hounds arrived.

He didn’t know long he sat there just gazing into the dark without seeing; the flames crackled and popped around him as if to sing of the fate of the lost hunter.

 The night wore on and Dean’s face was seared into his angelic brain – that cocky half smile, trembling ever-so-slightly at the corners, contrasting with the fear and sadness in his green eyes.

Castiel continued to sit, unblinking, unfeeling, staring at his useless hands. He couldn’t save him; he couldn’t keep Dean Winchester from being taken; he couldn’t keep hishunter from being dragged back into Hell.

He had been useless.

The morning fell upon the lonely angel, rays of sunshine dancing through the curtains into the room as if to mock him that he was sharing this beautiful sunrise alone. The sunshine was the laughter of all his holy brethren in heaven who had wanted this fate for him and his hunter.

Sam eventually wandered in from a hunt. Taking one glance at the angel whose eyes were still on the smoldering floor, those eyes locked so blindly on such a specific spot he knew: His brother was gone, once again lost to the fiery chasms and chains that made up the Underworld. 

It took a long while before Sam could muster up the willpower to move and to extinguish the flames releasing an unmoving Castiel from his temporary prison. Even after the circle had been interrupted and destroyed the Lord’s child continued to sit, lost in his thoughts.

Time passed without really seeming to pass as the two sat on opposite sides of the room from each other. Sam coughed out a few words ever now and again, but receiving no answer, he took a swig from his beer and leaned back in his chair. 

Another hour fell to the sandman and Castiel finally awoke from his paralysis. His eyes, as deep and blue as the sky he had descended from, fell upon the Winchester brother, the one that was left. They were filled with an emotion that was more characteristic of Dean and completely unnatural for the angel. Self-blame filled those deep, blue eyes and the voice that croaked out of the worn vessel matched all too well.

“I lost him, Sam.”  

“It wasn’t your fault, Cas. Dean knew this was going to happen and tricked both of us.” Sam spoke softly as his brows pinched together, the edges tilting up towards the center of his forehead and his skin creasing together to form an all too familiar look of distress. He knew there were no words he could say to ease the mind of the distraught man.

 “It is my fault. I was supposed to protect him. I was supposed to stay one step ahead so they couldn’t reach him and I… I failed him.” His breath caught in his throat and it took a few seconds before he could speak again. “I failed to keep him from being taken back to the only place that he dreaded most.”

The younger Winchester moved to Castiel’s side, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Cas,” he paused, waiting for those agonized blue eyes to meet his, “Dean knew exactly what was going to happen when he made that deal. It was you or him and knowing my brother, he’d do anything for family. More importantly, he’d do anything for you.”

“You just said it yourself. This is my fault. Had I never let one of my brothers deceive me, had they never been able to get that close I never would have been injured.” His eyes fell to the blackened floor. “Dean would have never made that deal.”

A few seconds passed, a few seconds that felt like years were aging the two men. “He was my charge and I failed him.”

“Dean was more than just your charge.”

“What meaning do you have for these words?” The look on his face was one of obvious confusion as his eyes met Sam’s, asking for an explanation with his eyes.

The edge of Sam’s lips quirked up into a half smile, warring with the sadness and turmoil that boiled deep within his gut and more importantly his heart. “You’ll know one day.” He patted his holy friend on the shoulder and rose from where he sat to pace for a few steps.

“What are we to do Sam?”

“There’s nothing we can do… this is what Dean wanted.” An exasperated sigh fell from the broken hunter’s lips. “He always told me to move on if anything happened and well, I want to. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’ve been through this once before, Cas, and it felt right leaving this life.”

“We can’t just leave him there. We can’t just leave Dean in Hell. This isn’t right. This isn’t how this is meant to end. I… I can’t… leave him…” The angel’s words became fractured, as if he were beginning to cry but no tears fell.

Sam’s steps brought him closer to the door, his hand reaching for the knob as he attempted to escape the enclosing walls; he didn’t want to be stuck in the same room as a crumbling angel. He knew he would cave into anything should he listen anymore. As his fingertips brushed the cool brass, the son of God’s voice rang out, a high pitch noise he hadn’t heard in ages piercing right through to his brain. His hands flew to his head, covering his ears as he tried to block out the agonizing wail. Turning slowly to face his friend he realized what was happening: a nuclear meltdown via holy being.

Castiel’s eyes and mouth glowed with a white light while shadows that took the form of wings splayed out across the walls behind him.

 “We will not leave him there.” The windows split and cracked into designs resembling a spider’s web. “I will not leave him to this fate, a place that has already broken him once before.” The high pitched wail weighed heavily on the glass and it bowed as if taking a physical blow, shattering into thousands of pieces that launched themselves in every direction.

A few shards managed to embed themselves in Sam’s hands just as he raised them to protect his face, both from the bright radiance that emanated from Castiel and the glass shards the were suddenly launched from the window.

“Cas! Stop!” Groaning in pain, the hunter dropped to his needs, bowing his head with hands over his ears and sleeves over his hands to help further block the high pitch frequency that seemed to be turning his brain to pulp. “You are not to blame for this Castiel! This is not your fault! Dean wanted to protect you; you were one of the few things he wanted to protect and this was the only way he could do it!” The angel stared at the brother, the glowing ever-so-slightly receding. “He sacrificed himself for you just like you’ve done for him!”

Something snapped inside the young man and the vessel fell to the floor.

Sam’s head lifted and he uncovered the sides of his head, blinking his eyes hard over and over to straighten out his vision before he faced his brother’s best friend. “He wanted this. He wanted this all along, for you to be safe. Everything he’s done has been for you, Cas. Everything.” There was anger in his voice as it quavered as well as a very subdued edge of jealousy.

The hunter ran his hands down his face, a sound struggling between a laugh and a cry of pain escaping his throat. His eyes were damp and he turned away as his hand blindly found the only escape from the room, a room that he could no longer stand to be in. There were no more words exchanged between the two as Sam opened the door and departed, disappearing into the light of the morning.

Castiel sank to his knees, hands clasped tight together as he began to pray for the first time in a long while. “Father… what am I to do? Why do you guide me down such a path as this? For the entirety of my existence I have relied on you to advise and command me. I have strayed from your path and now I have lost my reason for straying. What am I to do?” The son of the Lord fell silent as if awaiting an answer and when none came, anger and pain replaced his feelings of longing and helplessness. Betrayal and agony laced his words, like the poison of the serpent lacing the apple that felled God’s first children.

“You led me to the gates of Hell and command I enter and save the single soul that would in turn save us. Your hand guided me as I gripped him and raised him from perdition. I prayed to you. You gave me no answer. You gave me no direction. I was lost until I found Dean.” His deep blue eyes, the eyes that had so many times looked to the sky for a reason, fell to his hands that were turned upwards, fingers outstretched and trembling. “You willed this, Father and as I ask for guidance this once you give none.”

Even as he spoke, willing for a reply the sad angel knew no answer would come. No guidance was to be directed his way as he had been lost again. There was no reason to guide a lost angel.

* * *

 


	2. Fortune Favors the Wicked

There were many nights where Dean hadn’t slept due to his thoughts being plagued with nightmares from his time in hell, that were only soothed with the presence of a single being.

The moments leading up to his return to the pits were ones he would never forget. While he had feared for what might happen, what he might become, he knew that the choice he’d made was one that he wouldn’t regret for the entirety of his soul’s existence.

His mind played those last nights over and over again to keep from focusing on his surroundings. The plan had been in his head for weeks. Trading his soul to Crowley to keep the angels from getting to Cas was the only thing that he could think about. He had kept it from the son of God, as he knew exactly how he would react had he found out.

Castiel couldn’t always keep tabs on Dean and a night where the angel disappeared without a trace, always to keep one step ahead of his brothers, he sought out a crossroad and prepared to create a contract.

The deal he made had been one for the records, summoning Crowley himself to exchange his soul in exchange for the guaranteed safety of Cas.

“You want me to save one angel from all of the other angels of Heaven? This is the most ridiculous plan I’ve ever heard.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s ridiculous, Crowley. You want my soul and now I’m giving it to you. No fight. All you have to do is protect Cas and I’ll go with you. Can you do it?”

The hell king had smiled a wicked grin at the hunter, pacing a few steps around him and eyeing him up and down, before speaking again.

“Of course I can do it. I’m the king of the crossroads and the ruler of Hell. It’s a deal then: in exchange for the assured safety of your itty bitty angel. There are stipulations to the proceedings, though, as with any deal.”

“Anything.”

Following his words, and much to Dean’s disdain, they kissed on it, sealing the deal.

He wasn’t sure how Crowley would be able to pull it off but if there was one being in this world that could, it would be him. His angel would be safe and that’s all he was concerned with.

His end of the deal was to be fulfilled 7 days from their meeting. The demon would come to him in the night and take Dean’s soul, but only if Castiel was present for the exchange.

Every night had been a struggle knowing the end was near for him… again. He waited.

Luring Castiel wasn’t the difficult part. Actually, it had been quite easy compared to the next step: watching his best friend’s face as he lit the holy oil, entrapping him as the deal was fulfilled.

The confusion, the betrayal and the pain was more than he could bear and instead of saying anything he simply smiled his little half-smile as Crowley’s hounds erupted from the wood flooring, clamped down on his limbs and dragged him down into the pits.

The last thing he heard was his angel, who screamed his name in such an agonized tone that he would remember it to be more torturous than any pain his captor could inflict upon him.

Following the events of the night, he was taken by the hounds to a small chamber deep within Hell. There he waited for what felt like days, but times passed so differently in the depths it was hard to tell how much time actually progressed. It could have been minutes, days, weeks and it was all leading up to Dean’s fate being decided.

The time was spent with Dean sitting on a hard, molded bunk that was stained with different bodily dregs long forgotten on the mattress. He leaned his head back for a few minutes, before leaning it forward and dropping it into his hard, calloused hands, fingers dragging down his face and covering his mouth.

Minutes dredged by and to distract himself from an overwhelming sense of foreboding, he thought of his brother for a while; the conversations left unfinished, the petty arguments, all the fighting. It all meant nothing now and there was nothing he could take back, only regret the things left unsaid, left broken where the pieces would never fit back together.

His brother had been his only home for a very long time, an anchor among the rough waves that ripped him back and forth, and now all that they had worked for was lost. “I’m sorry, Sammy… I tried so hard. I know you’ll keep your promise this time. You’ve done it before and I know you’ll do it again.” There were no tears as he spoke, but his voice was hollow with longing for home and his voice echoed back at him as if the walls were speaking back at him, mocking him. “You did good, Sammy. We did good.”

Turning from his thoughts of his baby brother, his mind sifted through all of the people in his life that he had cared for and still cared for – Bobby, his mother, father, Charlie, Garth, Jo, Ellen. It was such a small list compared to how many people over the years they had helped, and saved. He tried to keep certain thoughts from bubbling to the surface, to keep them from overwhelming his already anguished brain, but it was too late.

“Cas… I hope you don’t have your ears on, but I need to pray to you. I don’t even know if you can hear me all the way down here, but I’m sorry, Cas. You always wanted to be there for me and you were; you were always watching out for Sammy and me. Sometimes it was kinda creepy ‘cause you’d appear out of nowhere and scare the shit out of us, but you were there.” A small smile crossed the hunter’s lips, pain capturing the rest of his face. “You were always there, buddy, and I never got to thank you for that. You saved our asses on more than one occasion and sometimes you also got us into more trouble than you’d think was possible for an angel.”       

Before he’d even realized it his eyes were wet and he rubbed them with his palms, breathing in deeply to steady himself. A few long moments ticked by before he could speak again.

“I know we’ve been through a lot, and there’s nothing I can ever do to fix the damage I’ve dealt. Honestly, Cas I don’t expect you to forgive and right now I’m pretty damn sure I don’t want you to because I don’t deserve it, and I never will, but I’m sorry. So sorry. For everything.” It was at the moment when he couldn’t contain it anymore; the tears started to fall without warning. He suppressed the sobs that racked at the inside of his chest, only allowing for a muffled wheezing sound to escape, but the tears that streamed down his face he had no hope to control.

The words “I’m sorry” fell from his cracked and worn lips again and again until his voice failed him.

There was a long time during what felt like the night where Dean just laid in his stained bunk grieving over his losses and his failures. No sleep would grace the fallen soldier for Hell did not allow for its prisoners to rest in any way.

Eventually it became apparent that Crowley was toying with him, leaving him to his thoughts and memories of being topside, trying to make him break himself – and it was slowly beginning to work. Dean wasn’t sure how long he had spent in that cell, pacing back and forth or sitting on the bunk with his head leaned against the wall.

Screaming echoes of tortured souls only agitated his heart more, knowing exactly what was coming his way when the clicking of footsteps ricocheted off the walls. A figure stopped outside his cell, a wicked grin shining against the dark backdrop. The door of his cage swung open and he kept where he was. There was no reason to resist, and he was tired of being alone even if it meant going with a demon to his inevitable fate.

“Well, well, well… Dean Winchester. Isn’t this a pleasure?” A young girl of no more than twenty-three stepped closer towards him, shackles in her petite hands. Black eyes glistened with malice against the ivory pallor of her sickly-looking face. Her voice was too familiar to be comfortable.

“Oh, yeah? Do I know you, you black-eyed bitch?” There was still fight left in his voice.

“Ah, it speaks. And yes, actually. I’m the black-eyed bastard that stole dear ol’ Cas from you. For a little while.”  His lips quirked slightly at the edge from the sound of Cas’s name on someone else’s tongue.

It suddenly dawned on him who she was. “Meg. How the hell did you manage to survive? Your ass should be in Purgatory with all your other bastard siblings that Sam and I ganked.”

No emotion, save for an amused smile, crossed her face. “I should be, but given that my unicorn meant that I had an in with you brothers, Crowley brought me back. He had planned for me to go to you guys, but you came to him first so it all worked out in the end.”

An strangled laugh escaped his throat. “This is just too awesome and perfect to be a coincidence. Does Cas know you made it out?” The name hurt on his own tongue, more so than hearing it grace the lips of another.

“Not yet,” she mused, tracing a half circle around Dean with her footsteps. “He will soon, though, and I’ll make all the pain he’s feeling because of your betrayal disappear.”

His hands curled into fists, nails pressing little crescents into his palm as his anger escalated with every word that came from her mouth.

“Did I upset you, hunter? Does hearing that your angel will forget about you boil your blood?”

“Not even close. I’m hoping for Cas to forget about me. I’m betting on it because then he can return to his duty as the child of his Lord.”

This time it was her turn. Her hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing just enough to keep from crushing his windpipe. “Are you so naïve to think that he would forget you that easily after all the pain you put him through?” She lifted him with one hand and dug her fingers into sternum, two knuckles deep. He coughed out another pained laugh, blood trickling out of the side of his mouth. His eyes met hers and looked deep into two black holes set in a white face, like looking into the eyes of dead man that had been buried and long forgotten.

“You just said you were going to make him forget and now you say that he won’t forget.” She loosened her grip a bit being caught off guard.

“You think you’re going to fix him? You think he’s going to accept you in my place? You’re the naïve one, you black-eyed bitch. Cas is going to know that as a demon you can communicate with me and he will always question you. So if you think for a second that my feathery friend up there is going to welcome you home with open arms, you need to reevaluate your entire plot to get your ‘unicorn’ back.” He spat the last few words in her face, knowing exactly what he was saying was going to in turn cause him pain, but it was worth seeing the look on her face as what he had said sunk in.

“You can’t have him. You’ve never had him.”

She dug her hand farther into his stomach while he choked out a strangled moan of pain, face contorting to match his sounds of agony.

Ripping her hand out of him, she let threw him to the floor like an unwanted doll tossed aside by a small child. The emotions on her face were dark and full of malice, her words filled with spiteful venom and unspoken curses. “You may be right, but that just means you can’t have him either and you will get to spend the rest of eternity knowing that while he lives he will never forgive you.”

Turning on her heel, she strode from the room, slamming the bars to his lonely prison behind him.

“I know,” he said softly to the blackness, laying on the floor and relishing in the pain that sent chaotic spasms throughout his entire body; the pain he felt was the only way for him to feel as though redemption wasn’t an impossibility.

He took it with no sound and instead curled up inside a blanket of darkness.

* * *

 


	3. Lights Flicker Before They Die

A few months had passed since Dean’s death, or at least that’s what he considered it to be. Many of those weeks had been spent searching for ways to get into Hell, though his intentions weren’t very clear when it came to whether or not he had planned to drag Dean out or, much to the dismay of several hunters, stay with him. Both had crossed his mind, and both were appealing.

The rest of his days were spent moping around, mourning the loss of his best friend and the only person he could truly rely on.

Sam was too busy spending nights as a normal human being, wrapped in the arms of a woman, to be bothered with Castiel. This was a heavy blow to take, but considering what Sam had said to him about Dean wanting it, wanting him to leave the life they had been thrown into when they were young, he understood. Occasionally he would still check in, taking care to see to it that Sam was safe. He’d never hear the end of it if harm were to come to the little brother. 

During the rest of his time that he had left to spare, he spent it eating at random diners that reminded him of before, when things were simple and enjoyable. The three had spent a lot of time dodging dangerous monsters and ducking their heads to keep away from the other angels, but those moments where they could sit and enjoy a meal together were ones that were always cherished.

It was a cloudy Thursday night when Cas stumbled upon the solution to all of his problems, though it didn’t come by accident.

The holy angel, who by this point as almost fallen while still somehow retaining his grace, had been tracking a nest of vampires for about a week when the group met with a demon which was unexpected and out of character for the creatures.

Walking with a sense of purpose, the demon had entered the large, abandoned abode without hesitation, tearing the door off its hinges with a mighty blow. He didn’t understand the feeling that arose when he looked at her back. It was abnormal for an angel to feel at all and he became more confused by each emotion that passed through him. This was a feeling in particular he didn’t quite understand; the humans had a word for it, but he couldn’t place it at the moment.

Just the look of her from behind was enough to keep him wondering for a long while who she was and why she was giving him such a feeling: feminine shoulders wrapped in a leather jacket, lower body hugged by black, denim jeans and a white and bloodied tank top clothing her torso. Black platform boots protected her feet. The look of her contrasted with the decrepit and collapsing mansion laid out before him.

Cas never could understand why human females, even demons possessing them, were so fascinated with the death traps that were heels. They had little purpose and gave little support to the feet. He’d always wanted to ask Dean if it was meant to attract a mate or just because they wanted them. The reasoning had to be interesting because the meaning for them he had in his head didn’t justify the pain that so apparently befell their fate. Humans were peculiar beings.

Eventually pulling himself from his stupor, he fluttered into the mansion, keeping a safe distance from the intruder and the creatures that inhabited the building. Even with keeping out of sight, if they were looking for an angel it wouldn’t be hard to pick out his signature among the group that began to appear from the shadows.

The nest itself wasn’t particularly large, only ten actually lived at the establishment, but many came and went as they pleased as Cas had learned. He had counted at least twenty different faces over the course of a week with only a select few returning regularly after feeding – it had taken all of his will power not to kill each and every one as they fed, though he did take a few as his prey to sate his bloodlust.

As the quiet group meandered farther into what was a makeshift den, the angel silently tip toed across a large archway the led to other side of the top floor, which crossed above where they had gathered. Had he not been a being of holy nature the words would have been lost to the darkness, but instead they flowed into his ears without problem. His only problem was that the woman who was here was still making him highly uncomfortable, though this feeling was separate from her being a demon inside the vessel of a captured and, presumably, dead human.

Before he could let those thoughts fester, he took and a breath and tuned in on the conversation that was starting below him. He stood stoically a few steps back from the railing, shadowed in the dim lighting of the hallway.

“A demon? What is a demon doin' trespassing in our territory?” A male voice asked. It was raspy and deep.

“I’m looking for a certain unicorn,” the female replied.

“What the fuck does that mean?” A more high pithed, nasally female voice asked.

“It’s none of your concern. In any case, word on the grapevine is that you have an angel problem and, without price, I’m willing to take care of it.”

“We don’t need your help. You’re not welcome here, bitch. This is our domain and if you don’t want a fight, you better turn the fuck around right now. I’ve never sucked a possessed human’s blood before, but I’m more than willing to try it.”

The voices of several vampires spoke up, forming into one prodigious ‘yes’.

Castiel listened intently as the female demon spoke again, having been caught in her voice as she spoke of having something he required.

“Is that so?” Her heels clicked across the wooden floor as she mused over what they had said, “If that’s how it’s going to be then I’ll just leave him to destroy your entire nest and send your asses to purgatory or I can have Crowley’s right hand come personally to do this. The choice is yours.” A smile could be heard in her voice as she turned and clicked across the floor a few feet. “Do you really want to take the chance that I won’t to get to the angel in time? Actually, do you really want an angel to come here in general?”

The voices died soft into murmurs of worry.

“Shut up,” the raspy, male voice barked. “All of you.”

As Cas stood listening he noticed the sun had started to rise and leak through the windows. A few of the blood heathens began to disappear to their chambers while the head of the nest still talked with the demon. “You can stay, but you have to do whatever the fuck I say.”

She chuckled. “Sure. Whatever you say, boss.”

“You’re going to stay in here, don’t fuckin’ wander around, and don’t enter any of the chambers without my approval. I will post two of my men to stay and watch over you.”

Her voice was mocking as she repeated herself, “Sure, boss.”

“I want you gone by morning. If not then we’re going to have problems. Gabe, Sean, you’re going to stay and make sure she doesn’t get herself into any trouble. If the angel shows up, book it since she won’t last long anyways. Don’t fight.”

A few sounds of acknowledgement were the only things he heard before he felt the vampire disappear with the remaining members of his clan.

“So, big boys, either of you wanna play a game?” The men spat at her and stationed themselves on the stairs.

Castiel descended lightly and took his opportunity to send them to purgatory where they belonged, resting a hand on both of the tops of their heads, flooding their souls with a baptism of holy light and grace. Both bodies tumbled down the steps landing on the floor with a hard thunk, almost as if it were a physical representation of their souls falling into purgatory.

“Well, Cas, that didn’t take very long.” He looked up and instantly felt as though he’d been struck in the stomach. The woman that sat with her legs propped up on the arm chair of an ivory couch, acting as though she hadn’t a care in the world, was Meg.

“How is it possible that you sit before me? You were dead, lost to the pits of the underworld.”

“I guess you could say it just wasn’t meant to be.” The inflection in her voice spoke a thousand different meanings, all of which had no association with her original statement. Her eyes burned into his with what he recognized as longing, an emotion he knew very well. “Crowley himself fetched me. It seems I had more work to do for him, though it kinda sucks being indebted to the king of Hell.”

“I don’t… understand. Why are you here for me?”

“Because I needed to talk to you about something, baby angel.” A smile crossed her red stainged lips and he swallowed a bit, remembering almost exactly what it feels like to touch them with his own. It was a weird feeling and it made him uncomfortable. “Well, more like someone.”

Suddenly he became confused by the prospect of a demon, one he’d previously had relations with, needing to talk to him about someone. It was illogical and hard to comprehend the entire situation. His hands curled a little bit as he stared at her. “I have little time, so speak.”

“Honey, you definitely have time to listen to me when it comes to getting Dean out of Hell.”

And then he was there, fingers wrapped around her throat and lifting her off the couch into the air, feet dangling a few inches off the floor. “Speaking such lies, you must have a wish to return to purgatory.”

“No! Please! I’m not lying!” She grabbed his arm with hers, eyes closing and face turning into a grimace of pain as his fingers tighter around her trachea. “I know… how to get him out! You have to believe me..." Her voice trailed off as she gasped for air.

“Why would you be willing to help me get him out?”

“Because… I know you need him.” The feeling of his hand disappeared from her neck as she collapsed onto the floor, coughing and gasping for air. “I know you need him and he needs you.”

“Be quiet.” Cas touched her arm lightly and the world went black for a second, pain seared across Meg's entire body but her lungs failed to allow a scream escape. She understood it later as an angel's teleportation being damaging to a demon's soul, or lack there of.

When her vision returned they were no longer in the dark mansion, but washed in the brightness of a cheap hotel room. "How very... Winchester," she mused. His light touched turned aggressive and he shoved her onto the bed telling her to not move. She obeyed.

The angel disappeared again and reappeared with rope and a flask that what she could only assume was holy water; she recognized the flask as one that Dean had carried around. “Cas… that’s really not necessary.” Fear slipped into in Meg’s eyes, though she kept it well off her face, and the realization hit her that this had turned out to be a very bad idea, as her unicorn no longer existed and had been transformed into something dark and ugly.

This wasn’t the light she had so desperately wanted to hold onto for so long, the light had been smothered because of Dean.

His mouth was set in a hard line as he grabbed her roughly, large hand completely encircling her upper arm, and threw her into one of the desk chairs near the wall. “Don’t move,” he voiced without feeling. The she-demon obeyed again, staying perfectly still but wanting so desperately to smoke out and return to Hell.

Before, his hands had been gentle with her, but as he wrapped the length of rope around her wrists and ankles he grabbed her brutally and without kindness at all.

When he finished, his face bent close to hers and she could smell his sweet breath that contrasted deeply with the malice that reminded her much more of a demon than an angel. Tears threatened to spill onto her rosy, but she bit her tongue, holding them back while he spoke to her. “You’re going to tell me everything you know. Everything.”

Cas spent the next few hours alternating between beating Meg and pouring holy water on her wounds while she screamed out answers to his questions, though she never directly gave away the answer to how to get Dean out. The scene was almost reminiscent of his being possessed by Naomi, the violent torture he inflicted was almost mechanical in execution.

 Eventually she had had enough of this torture at the hands of an angel and the words came pouring from her mouth.

 “Stop!” Meg’s words rushed out just before another round of holy water could douse her abused flesh. “You have to tell Sam he has to help. That’s the only way that you’ll get me to talk, no matter what you do to me. Sam has to help.”

 

* * *

 

He’d made the decision to call instead of showing up, which proved that he learned over the years not to just swing by at will. The humans found it polite to call ahead.

The phone rang in Castiel’s ear and he made a face, lips slightly quirking downwards as he thought about his conversation with Dean when the voice told him his minutes were almost up. It was one of the last times he’d used a phone and now he was calling the younger brother to get his help. He hoped the voice would let him talk to Sam.

“Hello?” A young woman’s voice asked, confused and a little annoyed at being called so late in the night. The couple’s time was a few hours ahead of the angel.

“Put Sam Winchester on please.”

“Excuse me? Who is this?” She demanded, obviously irritated with whoever was on the other line.

He hesitated before answering, unsure of what to say. “A… friend. Please, just put him on the phone. I knew him from before.”

The woman made a huffing sound before calling for the brother. “Sam! Phone!” A pause and Sam’s voice could be head in the background, wondering who it was. “Some crazy person that says he’s your friend and he ‘knew you from before’.” She quoted him in a sarcastic tone, though Cas didn’t pick up on it.

A line clicked on and a male voice answered as the first line clicked off. “Who is this because I swear to God if—“

The angel cut him off, “You shouldn’t use the Lord’s name in vain, Sam.”

“Cas.” Recognition colored his tone as he spoke the celestial being’s name. “How did you get this number? Where did you even get a phone?”

“I memorized it one of the nights I came to watch over you. I also borrowed the phone… it’s one of Dean’s that you didn’t destroy.”

“You what?”

“I memorized it one of the nights—“

“I heard you the first time. What do you want?”

There was a long pause on the caller’s end as he chose his words carefully. A scuffling sound and a muffled voice came through the receiver into Sam’s ear. “Cas?”

“I apologize; I had to adjust something. I’m calling because I need your help with something. Normally, I would do it myself, but I need someone else for this.”

An exasperated sigh and then Sam’s voice turned to a hushed tone. “I, uh, I gave up that life. I’m not a hunter anymore and I haven’t been for a few months, since that night. I told you this after it happened.”

“Sam, I can get him out. I know how to, but we have to do it quickly or he will be lost.”

He could image Sam’s face as the words processed in his brain, gaining meaning with every second. His brows would pinch together in a concerned expression while he pressed his lips together and the edges of them turned downwards; his eye-lids would close just a tiny bit. The image brought pictures of Dean swimming to the surface, as thinking of one brother usually brought thoughts of the other.

“I just need you to help me for a few days and then you can go back to your life. I don’t have a lot of time left to do this and this is our only chance to save him. Please, Sam. If this doesn’t work then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of your days and I’ll return to Heaven to face persecution.”

“Fine, but you only have four days. Where do you want me to meet you?”

Castiel’s lips curled up into a satisfied and hopeful smile as he gave the ex-hunter the time and place where they could meet. Fear loomed at the back of his throat, choking him slightly and making it a tad harder to speak as he realized what he was about to do for the first time.

When he hung up the phone, he turned to face what he had needed to adjust: a beaten and bloody Meg, tied securely to a chair placed at the center of a demon circle that kept her from smoking out. The demon’s eyes shifted from black to human, fear dancing in them while the angel’s eyes were alight with a fire that was unnatural for him.

Entering the circle, he quickly traced his stalked to her, leaning a hand on the back of the wooden chair and inclining his face into hers his words spiked with malice. “Sam has said he is willing to help me. Now tell me again what I need to do to exchange places with Dean.” Meg swallowed hard and fear filled her eyes.


	4. There'll Be Peace When You Are Done

Dean had known instantly when the demon knocked a large cane across the bars of his cell that it was his time. The thing was hunched over and shuffled in slowly, a shawl draped around its shoulders; he could tell, even through the cape, that they were deformed and ugly.

“Well aren’t you an ugly bastard,” the hunter joked, a sick smile twisting his handsome features as he sat up.

A sharp pain shot up his leg as the monster slapped its cane into his calf, tiny little spikes that ran the length of it embedding themselves into his flesh. He wasn’t sure why the pain was more intense than anything he’d ever felt, but it caused him to cry out in agony.

“Watch your tongue, boy, you’re already in for an eternity of pain and suffering, don’t make me cause you more than you’re already getting,” the demon spoke. His voice was low and whispery, shifting between a million voices all in a few seconds as if there were a million trapped souls inside him.It was then that Dean noticed that the monster’s back was shifting continuously under the shawl.

“Ah, so you’re not so naïve after all. I am Charon. I will be taking you to Alastair for your eternal stay in Hell.” When he didn’t move, Charon whipped his cane across Dean’s arm this time, sending the same sharp pain through his nerves into his core. “If you do not come with me, I will beat you and add you to my collection. The pain you will feel within me is more than you will ever feel during your time on the table, I can assure you.”

It was a few seconds before Dean recovered from the excruciating pain in his arm, and he spoke carefully, “Wasn’t Charon a God that ferried souls across a river, or something?”

A cruel smiled was heard in the next few words that were spoken. “Occupations change, even in the Underworld. I got bored making people wander the shores, I wanted to be up close to the action, watching the pain. Crowley, when he became king, allowed me to become the tour guide of his humble abode.”

“That sounds… pleasant.”

“It is. I get to take damned souls to the table of the White-Eyed demon.”

“That’s not possible. Alastair is dead. Sam and I ganked that son of a bitch.”

“You should be well aware by now that things that are dead do not always stay thus. There are no rules in Hell, boy; at least, not like you humans live by.”

“Well ain’t that the truth,” he muttered under his breath, flinching when the cane inched towards him.

“Stand. We’re to go now.”

Legs moving against his will, he stood. The demon was a foot and a half shorter than his six-foot-one. It’s back continued to writhe in an undulating way that made his stomach turn; even more so when he thought what might be actually under the shawl.

They walked in silence for the most part, Charon occasionally pointing out different points of Hell as if it were some sick and twisted tour. He wondered if he would make it to the gift shop. When a laughed curled the edges of his lips, he bit down on his tongue, realizing that the ‘gift shop’ at the end of his tour had no exit. The air left his lungs as though he’d been decked in the gut.

 _Be with me, Cas. I know you can’t hear me, but damn it, Cas, I need you. You and Sammy and everyone else that’s left up there. God, be with me._ His own thoughts surprised him as he had been not only praying to the angel, but to God himself. _I don’t believe in you much, man, especially after what you’ve put him through, but I know you’ve looked out for us Winchesters more than once and if there was ever a time that I could use you, it would be now._ There was no sure way for him to know if God Almighty was listening, or even if there was a God, but at the moment it kept him from panicking.

It felt like hours had passed as they walked. Second by second screams echoed in this distance as though they were the ticking hands on a clock. A shudder passed through his spine, muscles tensing as the howls of misery pierced through him as they grew in volume.

They were close. Before he could blink they were standing at the steps of a large temple-like structure, the same one he had entered however long ago.

Time seemed to stand still, unlike when they’d been walking when it all seemed to rush by. His hands began to sweat and he wiped them against his jeans, removing the slick coating only to have sweat bead on his forehead. It was peculiar, he hadn’t been sweating when walking the brimstone path, but man, was he sweating now.

As he stared up at the entrance, bile rose in his throat and blocked any other words that had been forcing their way up his gullet to his mouth.

“Aye, it is. Get on with it, boy.” The cane tapped his back. Without enough force to actually pierce through his shirt, it was more of a combined warning and nudge.

“Any chance I could get you to let me off with a warning, officer?” The demon obviously didn’t understand the joke, and what could be seen of his face told of a scowl hiding under the shadows of his robe. “Yeah, didn’t think so.” Just as the cane raised, Dean took let his feet guide him up a few steps, raising his hands in submission. “Sorry, didn’t realize the humor down here was so nonexistent.”

“You’re keeping him waiting and for every second spent playing the fool with me is another minute you get to spend with a hook in your shoulder.” Charon’s tone of us obviously was a tell of both malice and annoyance. He was done with this soul and was ready to get back to his job as the guide of the dead. The sentence alone was enough to make the young hunter want to vomit, but hearing it dispensed from the mouth of a demon such as this sent him to the edge, his vision blurring. He turned away to keep his face from betraying how he felt inside.

Slowly placing one foot after the other, he ascended the steps; it was a miracle that he made it to the top with how shaky his legs were. The trembling didn’t end at his legs, though, as his whole body tremored with both a loathsome anticipation and dreadful despair.

Entering the archway of the first corridor, he was greeted by a gargoyle-like creature that bellowed out a horrifying sound that seemed to be something along the lines of what Satan’s cow might sound like. For all he knew, Crowley could have cows down here, he’d just never been in a position to ask him. “Some weird fuckin’ monsters down here.”

With a last glance at the beastie, he paced his way across the red tile that seemed to dance beneath him as the light of torches that lined the narrow walls flickered across them. It reminded him too much of blood. He swore as he looked closer, seeing the faces of those he’d loved and lost in the gory and bleeding floor. Tears swam in his eyes and put the heels of his hands to his eyes, attempting to physically push the sobs back into his heart.

Feeling he could walk again, he kept his eyes looking straight ahead, keeping the temptation to look down quashed. His thoughts echoed in his head, more prayers attempting to free themselves from his brain, to roll across his tongue and into the smoldering air. The temptation to pray was quashed with a simple bite of the tongue.

While he didn’t allow his invocation of the Lord and his angelic son to be voiced, prayers in his head rang loud and true. Castiel’s name repeated itself over and over again like a mantra, as if willing the angel to appear before him, scoop him up in a shield of feather and trench coat protection and whisk him away from this fate. But it wouldn’t happen because this was what he deserved, a consequence of a lifetime of sins. _Karma is one mean son of a bitch_ , he told himself, as if the blame all fell upon his broad and quavering shoulders.  

When he finally made it to the steps leading upwards, he looked back at the hallway. The faces he’d seen in the floor all seemed to rise up now, chanting his name in haunting tones. “You may not be real, but damn is it good to see you guys one last time.” There was a sad smile on his chapped and broken lips, the same sadness reflected in his bright emerald eyes, which were beginning to fade from even just this minute amount of time he’d spent beneath the surface.

“I miss you, guys. Nothing I could say or do will bring you back and nothing will ever make up for what I’ve done,” he paused, a single tear spilling onto his cheek, “but I hope that I can at least start making up for it. I promise you, I’ll atone for every damn thing I’ve ever done, you hear me?”

 

* * *

 

When he reached the top Alastair was waiting for him, leaning casually against a table with a cloth in one hand and knife in the other. “Hello, Dean.” His voice was amused, excited. A gleeful grin stretched across the length of his face. It was the same face that he'd been wearing the last time they'd met.

“You’re one slippery son of a bitch, you know that? Let me guess, Crowley grabbed your ass out of purgatory, by doing only God knows what, when I made the deal. He knew exactly who he fuckin’ wanted to get me back to that table. I’m not doing it, you bastard. You can string me up for a century, I’m going to let you put that knife back in my hands.” He was out of breath when he finished speaking.

“Are you done now?” Alastair waited for a reply. “Good because I have news for you! You don’t have a choice whether or not to be on my table, much to my disappointment. Either you pick up one of these knives and start cutting away or your dear old angel gets put back on the holy radar!” The sound of his voice was much to giddy to be talking about torture.

“I’m sorry, but what the hell did you just say? Crowley and I had a deal!”

“Oh, such a shame, but you really shouldn’t make deals with the devil, love.” Dean jumped at the sound of Crowley’s voice and whipped around, instantly setting himself into a fighting stance.  
“Relax. I’m not here to do you any harm. On the contrary, actually, you’ll be the one doing the harm.”

“We had a fucking deal, you bastard! My soul in exchange for Cas’ safety!”

“It seems you didn’t read the dotted line. I never specified how I’d be using your soul. The spell I had in mind is one that requires… a little more bloodshed than the average protection haunt.”

“Did you just say ‘haunt’?” There was more than just a little confusion in the hunter’s voice.

“Yes, I did. And before you get your panties in a bunch trying to figure out what I mean by that, I’ll tell you. I’ve sent a reaper to keep watch over your boyfriend. It’s quite intriguing really. By sending tortured souls to the reaper, he keeps a watch for angels and deflects their angel radar to something more demonic.”

“Of all the crazy shit you’ve come up with, this has got to be the craziest, Crowley.”

“To you, it’s King Crowley. Now get a knife in your hand before I rescind my offer completely and send you back to the surface to deal with one pissed off seraphim and his brothers.”

Dean watched the Hell King’s face, terror seeping into his bones. When he looked over at the White-Eyed Demon, who was watching him, a knife was extended in his direction and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness melted all his sense. He knew that what he was about to become was something that he couldn’t take back, not this time, and there was no way to make up for his sins if he took the knife. The thought weighed heavy on his heart.

As his hand closed around the hilt of a small dagger, he felt all the belief in himself fall away into the darker pits of Hell.

“Excellent! Now get on with it. To start out with I need fifty souls in six hours. Good luck, _hunter_.” The last word echoed around him, mocking his entire being, as Crowley shimmered out of sight.

The last words he spoke before starting his commission: “You’re more important, Cas.”


End file.
